Cherry Bomb
by Punk Rock Kitsune
Summary: After an unsuccessful World Meeting in the USA, America decides to treat everyone to ice cream. Who knew that for Romano and Spain a simple confection could lead to a confession? Spamano and minor USUK.


**Hello, guys! :D**

**I went to Ritter's (The best place for ice cream in the world) the other day, and it was crowded outside with lots of people chattering. As I went to order some delicious cappuccino ice cream, I spotted one of their signs advertising their Italian ice flavors, and thus, it inspired this oneshot. :3**

* * *

_**Title: **__Cherry Bomb_

_**Rating: **__T_

_**Pairing: **__Spamano, minor USUK_

_**Disclaimer: **__I do not own Hetalia. I also do not own Ritter's menu. I am simply using it as a reference to ice cream flavors._

_**Summary: **__After an unsuccessful World Meeting in the USA, America decides to treat everyone to ice cream. Who knew that for Romano and Spain a simple confection could lead to a confession? Spamano and minor USUK._

* * *

"This world meeting is officially adjourned!" A bubbly America announced, restacking the papers in front of him. "And to celebrate getting one thing done, I'm treating everybody to ice cream!"

"That seems rather irrational." Britain scoffed, rolling his eyes. "That "one thing" we accomplished was deciding whether or not Hawaii was a country or a regular island before becoming a state. It was obviously a country beforehand."

"Shows how much you know, _vous tromper_. Hawaii was always an island." France jumped in.

"It was not!" Britain retorted. "Hawaii used to have a monarchy! A queen, in fact!"

"That's what you think." France shot back. "Of course, someone who wears a bland green uniform everyday wouldn't know anything about extravagant islands."

"Shut up, Kermit the Frog!" Britain shouted. "This is exactly why you still have squatting hole-in-the-ground toilets!"

While Britain and France held their daily wrestling match in the corner, America continued speaking.

"It's like, blazing hot outside, so ice cream is a good idea anyway. I, the hero, will lead the way to the promise land!"

"That's a wonderful idea." A soft voice said. "I wonder if they have maple syrup flavored ice cream..."

All the countries in the room froze.

"Hey... did you hear something just now?" Britain asked, his hands around France's neck.

"I dunno dude." America replied, looking around warily.

"It could be a ghost!" The anxious filled voice of Italy cried.

"Don't be a fool, Italy. There are no such things as ghosts." Germany huffed.

On the other side of the table, Italy's older brother opened one eye.

"What the hell are you going on about, Veneziano?" Romano huffed, a bit irritated that he was woken up from his small siesta.

"There's a ghost in here!" Italy cried, ignoring Germany's objection.

"WHAAAAT?" Romano cried, startled.

"Mr. Ghost, we surrender!" Italy and Romano said together, waving white flags.

The whole time the commotion was going on, poor Canada sat there, looking confused and transparent.

Spain looked across the table at Romano and smiled brightly. No matter what Romano said or did, it always brought a smile to his face.

Romano noticed Spain staring at him. He immediately looked away, not wanting Spain to look at him at all.

"Let's get out of here before this "ghost" makes everyone go crazy!" America suggested, mainly because he wasn't a huge fan of the supernatural.

All of the countries filed out of the conference room, leaving Canada and his bear Kumajirou alone.

"...I'm not a ghost." Canada finally managed to get out.

"Who are you?" Kumajirou asked, looking up at the ignored country.

"I'm Canadia."

* * *

As America said, he led them "heroically" to an ice cream parlor that wasn't far from the conference room. Everyone was grateful for the air conditioned facility and the wonderful sweet aromas. Everyone that is, except for Romano.

The Italian scrunched his nose.

"¿Qué pasa, Romano?" Spain asked, seeing his expression.

Romano looked away from the Spaniard. That only beckoned Spain to come closer to him. However, Romano didn't notice as he started to answer Spain's question.

"I just don't like _sweet_ things, like you." Then, Romano realized the double speak in his words. He blushed as he tried to cover that up.

"I'm not saying _you're _sweet, of course." He said quickly, turning his head back around. "We all know that bastards like you-"

Romano never got to finish, because when he turned his head back around the entire way, his face was an inch away from Spain's. Flustered, Romano pushed Spain away.

"G-Get out of my face you damn bastard!" He told him forcefully.

Spain looked slightly hurt, but his smile remained on his face.

"Romano, you've been acting strange lately. What is wrong?" Spain asked, his green eyes gazing into his.

Romano remained silent. He was saved by another argument between Britain and France. It was about Hawaii... again.

"You have no idea what you are talking about, fishy face!" France was saying. "Everyone knows that an island is a place completely surrounded by water. You should know, Britain! You're an island because nobody wants to be around you, black sheep of Europe!"

"Oh shut up, Corbin Bleu cheese!" Britain retaliated. "At least Hawaii never had a monarch who got their heads stuck on a pike!"

"And at least none of my monarchs had to change their entire _religion_ to marry another woman... we could do that anyway." France smirked.

Before Britain could do a rebuttal, America came up behind the country and dragged him away.

"Dude! It's your turn to order!" He said, completely oblivious.

Sighing, Britain looked at the smiling cashier.

"What would you like?" She asked.

Britain looked above the cashier's head at the menu and sweat dropped.

"America... what in God's name are these?" Britain asked. "Mud Sundae? Grizzly Cub? ..._Turtle Somethin'?_"

America laughed. "You gotta be kidding me, right? Hah, you don't know what a Mud Sundae is. Good one, dude!"

Britain stared at America, letting him know that he wasn't kidding.

"You... really don't know?" America asked, shocked. "Dude, you need to get out more!"

"I don't have to take any ridicule from you!" Britain snapped, storming away.

France had already put him in a bad mood, and America only made it worse.

"Wait, Britain!" America called, but he was already out the door.

"Geez, what's with him? He usually isn't upset so easily..." The young country murmured.

America quickly ordered for himself and Britain. As soon as his desired treats were in his hands, he walked outside to Britain.

* * *

Soon, Romano and Spain were up next to order. The Italian never answered the Spaniard's question.

"I have no idea how Americans can regularly eat this stuff." Romano huffed, looking at the menu in disgust.

Just then, a menu sign with the colors of the Italian flag caught his eye. And alas, the ice cream parlor was advertising a new addition to their menu; Italian ice. There were two flavors available. One was Cherry Bomb, and the other was Mangolicious. Even though the given names for the fruity flavors were absolutely ridiculous, it was something that Romano was familiar with.

"Um, I'll have the Cherry Bomb Italian ice." Romano told the still smiling cashier.

Spain's smile broadened. "Italian ice sounds _muy sabroso_. I'll have the Mangolicious Italian ice."

Romano rolled his eyes. "Damn copycat..." He muttered.

Spain appeared unfazed by Romano's snide remark as the cashier rang that up and the desserts were made.

Five minutes later, the red and light orange confections were handed to the European nations.

"Gracías, señorita." Spain told the cashier, giving her a charming smile.

A bit flattered, she blushed, giggling softly.

Romano's eyes narrowed and he walked off.

"Wait up, Romano!" Spain called, hurrying to catch up with the slightly pissed Italian.

Romano walked over to a booth on the other side of the parlor and sat down his brow furrowed. Spain took the liberty of sitting right next to him in the booth.

"You know there's plenty of room in the other booth, bastard." Romano told him, dipping his spoon into his cherry concoction and eating it.

Spain's eyes saddened. "What's the matter? You've never complained about me sitting next to you before."

Romano was about to give him a mean reply, but when he looked directly into his green orbs, his words choked up in his throat. Instead, Romano looked away, his face as red as his Italian ice.

"This isn't like you, _mi tomate_." Spain told the Italian.

"_Don't_ call me that." Romano muttered.

Spain ignored him and continued. "Usually you are full of energy and freely throw insults my way without a second thought. But recently, you've been half-hearted and reluctant."

Romano stuffed another spoonful of the icy treat into his mouth, choosing to remain silent.

Spain's expression saddened even more. "Romano, what did I do to you?"

This got Romano's attention.

"What?" He asked.

"What did I do to you?" Spain repeated. "Did I do something to upset you? Please tell me. You have been purposefully avoiding and ignoring me for almost two months now. The last thing I want is for you to hate me like you did when you were a child..."

Romano closed his eyes and clenched his fists.

_Is that bastard this fucking dense?_ He wondered to himself. _When will he start figuring things out on his own? That idiot..._

Without doing much thinking, Romano grabbed Spain's shirt, pulled him forward, and crushed his lips against his.

Spain's eyes widened in shock while Romano's were squeezed shut. When Romano released Spain, he coiled back, not in resentment, but in surprise.

"R-Romano..."

Romano was panting, his face completely red, and the same shade as his Cherry Bomb. "Tell me something... why do you like to be around me?"

Spain's face turned red also. "W-What?"

"This is not the time to play dumb, you bastard!" Romano snapped. "When Austria dumped me on you those may years ago, you stuck by me all this time, even when I was mean to you. Why?"

Spain was flustered. Why did he stay with Romano all this time? Was it because...?

"Do you love me?" Romano muttered.

It was so soft and incoherent that Spain didn't understand what he said.

"What?"

"I _said_, do you fucking love me, you bastard?" Romano repeated loudly.

Spain stared at the Italian as he stuffed more Italian ice into his mouth.

"...you're Italian ice is melting." Romano said lamely, mentally face palming for trying to change the subject so abruptly.

Spain's smile slowly reappeared on his face before squeezing Romano in a death hug.

"Are you confessing to me?" The Spaniard asked.

"I-I'm not!" Romano protested. "I asked you a question, dammit!"

If Romano's face wasn't red before, it certainly was now.

"You are!" Spain cooed. "Your face is a tomato now! You only get like that when you're embarrassed."

"You sound like a junior high girl! Get off of me and answer the fucking question!" Romano snapped.

Spain removed his arms from around Romano and instead ran his fingers through his hair, the goofy smile never leaving his face.

"I do. Even though you mistreated me all those years ago, I still hoped that one day you would come to like me. And it seems like you have more feelings for me than I realized. Is that why you've been acting so strange?"

Romano looked away. Spain took that as a yes.

Wanting Romano to return to his normal state, Spain whispered in his ear.

"You know, right now you look about as red and as tasty as your Italian ice."

"D-Don't say such embarrassing stuff like that to me, you bastard! I'm so going to pinch your ear!" Romano shouted.

Spain laughed and dipped down to capture Romano's lips with his. Romano couldn't help but melt into the kiss like his Cherry Bomb was melting onto the table.

When Spain pulled away, Romano's eyes were slightly lidded, but still held that fire Spain was used to seeing.

"Let's get outta here." Spain suggested.

"Yeah..." Romano muttered.

Spain got out of the booth and stretched his hand out to his new love. Romano took his hand and together they walked out of the parlor. The forgotten Cherry Bomb and Mangolicious Italian ice continued to melt onto the table, eventually meeting each other halfway and swirling together to become one.

* * *

"Yo, Britain! There you are, dude!" America called to his former caretaker.

The said European was sitting at a table with an umbrella shadowing the table and seats, the right side of his face resting on his right hand. He looked up at America for a second before sighing.

"What is it, America?"

"Here." America said, sitting a sundae and a spoon in front of Britain.

Britain glanced at the vanilla ice cream in front of him and gasped at what was on it.

"Is this... butterscotch?" Britain asked happily.

America stuffed his hands in his pockets, looking away. "Yeah. One of the boring you stories you told me when I was younger was how butterscotch was invented in your country. And apparently it was the only thing that didn't taste bland in the UK. So... I thought a butterscotch sundae would cheer you up." He finished, his face a bit red.

Britain looked down at the sundae. "Thank you, America."

America's face reddened even more as Britain took a bashful first bite. His eyes brightened as he swallowed the ice cream.

"So... how is it?" America asked.

Britain, being Britain, couldn't help but make a sarcastic reply.

"It tastes like diabetes." He told the younger nation.

The look on America's face amused Britain greatly that he couldn't help but smile.

Knowing that Britain truly thought the sundae was delicious, America smiled back.

"So tell me... was Hawaii really a country or an island before it became one of my states?"

"...you're joking right?"

"Why would I lie, dude?"

Britain face palmed himself when he realized America really had no idea.

_**Finis**_

* * *

**I hope you all enjoyed this! Reviews will be cuddled, apperciated, and placed among my stuffed animals!**

**Ja ne! :3**

**PRK**


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